old, STILL WORKING

its been 6 years of dreams
74 books and it seems
that the way i see
is much different that you believe
i will not take my foot off the path
to the slaughter of the calf

the bridge where we tossed my mingy in the water
frozen and blindfolded, i ve gained more than others
which way should i lead your worn out pacifier
down to the garden or shall i lead you to the fire?

Ill take one in a spike two in my eye

For those who close their eyes, say, “I like it fine

My bread, my box, my knife”

Hear me when I say, “It’s alright,

To say no, to keep your head upright

In addition, when the liars lay you outright

Cut off yer wings in mid-flight

Press yer face into their rings in the fight

Look into their ghost limb eyes

Execute the lies with brutal spite

Embrace their shimmering switchblade knife

Give up yer life.

Let em press the knife to the small of yer back

Steal all their rings and tack

Them to the walls and the halls of the court

Give them gifts til it makes them short

Of breath and they’ll try to breathe

But their loss of wealth leads them to grieve

and death will walk them to their grave

and I will sing to them all the way!

oh futurist toy!

-CHILD'S PLAY-

tickle that pistol

on the steel bruise

and float that daisy

chain to the workers field

and crawl into the thrashers

chamber to dismantle the job

and slip a fingernail under the spinning

blade to see what happens when the wheels

like games make wired tops and electrocution sex

toys, epileptic BB's, hatchet rosaries, guillotine tumbleweeds,

fighting white radiator intercourse, magic vomit laughter sounds of bright glass

shards in chocolate shakes, storybooks springing forward circular magnifying spectacles

to view transsexual animals with bouncy balls and jacks, scotch fueled hopscotch, syphilis needle pogo stick

races, toe grinders and anus fryers to distill the doggy tails and frilly pacifiers; to till it into speed, inject it and feel core molten squish

through the baby fat, in birthday suits, grimacing with cheeks flushed; unexplained puncture holes in the breast will fountain thousands of silver threads

to the delight of all the other laughing

children simultaneously

losing their

bowels.

travis sehorn

.

i dreamt that marshall was the reason jad fair began playing music.

jad fair was the reason i started playing music.

meantoharm

shes the lampshade, she’s part night and part day

and she’s looking for a cane to get – around

so she holds on to the hand, of the playerpiano man

but he ain’t a man, he’s just ---sound

her pupose it is plain, she’s in the corner again

and there’s whispers about it all around – town

I wish someone’d turn her on, she’s been this way for too long

cause her teeth chatter when her feet leave the – ground

lead her to the highgrass fields, to the thrasher’s spinnin wheels

and he’ll sow her into soil where she can’t be found

Oh sleepyhead, lay yer head down, in the ground where you can’t be found

Oh you sleepyhead I don’t even want you -- around.

I don’t mean to be harmless, you kid

some say that im heartless, you said

but, kid, honestly here I am

cause in my dreams, im pregnant again.